


the Bliss is gonna make you see

by MoMoMomma



Series: Kinktober 2018 [7]
Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Blow Jobs, Drinking, M/M, Masturbation, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-07
Packaged: 2019-07-27 14:40:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16221197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoMoMomma/pseuds/MoMoMomma
Summary: “I am...not sober enough for this.” He informs the hallucination, poking at one flower and making its pollen drift off in a puff. “I said nice things about you. Why’d you have to give me a half-naked preacher to imagine?”





	the Bliss is gonna make you see

There are a thousand and a half warnings about the Bliss. Rook’s heard every single one of them now, from the vague “don’t get lost” to the utterly terrifying “you go in yourself and you come out someone else...if you come out at all.” It doesn’t actively stop him from going too close to over-turned barrels or diving into water laced so heavy with it Rook feels like he’s swimming in jello, but that’s mostly because half the shit in Faith’s region is so Bliss-steeped he’d have to go to the Valley or the Mountains to escape it.

And he can’t do that. The Sheriff is counting on him, the Cougars are counting on him to not turn tail and run just because it makes his head spin, makes him nauseous while he forgets which way is up.

He’s never had the stomach for drugs. 

Which makes this particular decision all the worse, really. Rook knows about crossfade, had grabbed many an E-2 by the collars after their first time off base, shaking them back to reality by force. Forcing ipecac down their throats when they gag and gag for no effect. But he honestly figured he’d be alright, it’s not like Bliss was weed.

If it is, it’s the most dangerous weed on the planet; he’s pretty sure Hope County would get a lot more attention if they were making weed this good. 

“I am...not okay.” Rook informs the flowers dancing in the breeze of the night, watching the fat petals bounce with the small gusts. He salutes them with the whiskey he’s got between his knees before tipping it back.

Normally he’s running through the fields with someone at his side, human or animal. Cheeseburger making soft huffing noises like he’s trying to work out a sneeze or Sharky making some lazy comment about something that isn’t really there. But Rook’s alone, all his friends at the 8 bit for the night. It was supposed to be just a small thing before resting, going to check on some family or another that the Cougars hadn’t heard anything from in a bit. 

Surprise, surprise the cabin was empty. Ransacked and torn apart, probably by Angels given the way the windows had been smashed in and there was blood on the glass. Like whoever was going inside didn’t register pain enough to stop. But there had been a cabinet busted open and a few liquor bottles inside that didn’t get brushed to the floor.

So Rook had helped himself to a liquid finders fee and wandered down a dirt path until he was too drunk to keep walking. 

“You are very pretty.” He tells the flowers, reaching out to stroke one finger along the length of a petal. “Probably why you’re so dangerous, right? Pretty things are dangerous.”

He knows this too well. There’s no pull from Faith, she can’t actually turn him straight no matter how much Bliss she blows in his face. But Joseph, shirtless and preaching his mania, stirred something in him he tries his best not to think about. It’s easy most of the time, Joseph just throws his Heralds and Soldiers at Rook and stays out of it. But Rook worries one day he’ll come to deal with the “heretic” himself and then he’s in for a world of difficulty.

“Rook?”

Ah. Of course. Because the Bliss is largely his imagination working against him. And he had _just_ been thinking about Joseph Seed--stripped down to just his jeans, sins in stark relief, muscles corded over bone and madness. So, of course, he’s slowly making his way up the winding dirt path towards him. 

“I am...not sober enough for this.” He informs the hallucination, poking at one flower and making its pollen drift off in a puff. “I said nice things about you. Why’d you have to give me a half-naked preacher to imagine?”

“Rook.” Joseph’s closer now, plodding along towards him, one hand stretching out. “Why are you here? Have you been drinking?”

“Nope,” Rook says cheerfully, climbing to his feet and upending the bottle to his mouth.

Joseph’s face twists, something like annoyance ruining his features. Rook stumbles a little closer until he can fit his cheek into the hand Joseph has outstretched. He waves his free hand, poking a finger into Joseph’s chest and dragging it down until he’s near brushing his belly button.

“No, no. You don’t get to be mad at me. You’re not real. Fake Joseph shouldn’t care that I’m drinking.”

“Should he not?” Joseph seems more amused than anything else, head tipping, eyes narrowed slightly. “And why is that?”

“ _Because_ ,” Rook stresses, losing and finding the sentence in an instant. “Because fake Joseph is never pissed at me. He does fun stuff like blow me and let me fuck him.”

“The Joseph in your dreams?”

Rook hums an assenting noise, letting his fingers wander lower, tracing over the divide at Joseph’s hips of fabric and skin. It’s cool to the touch--which is weird because Joseph is usually sweat-hot in his mind--but Rook doesn’t mind, just carefully hooks his fingers into the waistband. 

“I think the Bliss makes me horny,” Rook admits in a conspiratorial sort of whisper, watching Joseph’s brows rise in shock before he schools his face back to neutral. “Fucking weird, right? It’s like...either a thing that just happens to me? Or maybe...maybe Faith made it do that? Because I don’t like girls--well, I like them just fine but not for sexy stuff--so maybe she made a special batch so I would do stuff for her like other guys do? In the hopes she’d sleep with me?”

He’s asking a lot of questions, and most of them are hypothetical. Joseph looks a bit dizzy trying to track them all--or maybe that’s the way Rook’s slowly but surely working his hand in between pants and skin. 

“Course,” he points out with another sharp swig, “could just be you. You’re crazy. And I like crazy. Makes me wanna tumble into bed, see how much sin we could come up with.”

_That_ earns him a disappointed frown but Rook figured it might. Hallucination or no, Joseph is never big on him pointing out the sin of what they do. Always vaguely parentally disappointed in his choices--which has led to more than one teasing call of Daddy. Dream Joseph likes it, a lot. But he gets the feeling Bliss-Hallucination Joseph might cuff him ‘round the head for trying it.

It sounds stupid, but there are different rules for the two.

“We should remove you from the Bliss,” Joseph suggests softly, reaching to take hold of his wrist but not pulling his hand away. “If it has such an effect on you…”

“Mmm, no.” Rook answers succinctly, slipping to his knees, pulling his hand from Joseph's pants but letting him keep hold of his wrist. “I wanna suck you off.”

“Rook, I--”

“Dream Joseph doesn’t protest this much.” Rook informs him, flattening his palm against the twitching muscles of his stomach. “He just lets me do whatever I want. I like him better.”

“Goodness but the Bliss does affect you,” Joseph murmurs, almost under his breath but a touch too loud. “Are you--would you not be more pleased with receiving pleasure?”

“Nope.”

“Alright then.” Joseph seems almost _amused_ , one hand carefully cupping the back of his head. “I won’t argue. The sight of you at my feet, kneeling there in worship is...more enticing than I thought.”

“The Bliss makes you horny.” Rook insists, fingers too numb to get anywhere, pawing uselessly at Joseph’s belt. “Do you think real Joseph gets horny in the Bliss? Hey, help me out here.”

Joseph silently undoes the belt, leaves it hanging open, and even helpfully pops the button free and drags his zipper down. He doesn’t do anything else, though, which is fine. Rook likes to be an active participant in these sort of things, even if he is a little eager once he drags Joseph’s cock into the hot night air.

Well, at least Joseph must think he’s a bit eager. Since palms clap onto either side of his head when Rook tightens his lips just below the head, pressing his tongue against the slit. The rosary beads on one hand dig in slightly--which is weird, usually dream Joseph doesn’t have those, but this is Bliss Joseph and that’s a very different thing, he supposes. It’s a good sort of feeling, one that Rook tips his head into as he slowly but surely swallows him down.

Alcohol makes him drool, makes his lips a little numb, but it relaxes his gag reflex. Eases everything slick so he can sink to the base, nose buried in the thin thatch of hair at the base of Joseph’s cock. He pulls off when breathing becomes difficult--the Bliss makes the air thicker, and that’s not fair because in dreams he doesn’t need to breathe. He can just swallow and swallow without fear of his throat clamping closed and his vision going wonky at the edges with black fuzziness.

Of course, Bliss Joseph is a little longer than dream Joseph. Probably because the Bliss makes everything better so, naturally, it would give Joseph a bigger cock. Rook’s only slightly disappointed, as he drags his head back, lips pursed so tightly Joseph makes a choking noise above him, that his own cock doesn’t seem any bigger.

But, to be fair, his hands are going a bit numb. That’s why he’s jerking off. If he closes his eyes, lets himself be lost to the jerks of Joseph’s hips and the motions of his own hands, he can almost imagine it’s not his hands on his cock. 

Next time he should totally get either Bliss Joseph or Dream Joseph to sixty-nine with him. That would be awesome. 

“Y’can fuck my throat.” He says hoarsely once his vision goes a little too wavy for his comfort, pulled off to lick across Joseph’s cock like it’s his own personal popsicle. “If you want.”

“Rook,” Joseph hisses, fingers digging into his scalp. “You--”

“I like it. Told you the Bliss makes me horny.”

“I think the whiskey makes you lustful.” Joseph counters, but he reaches a hand down, presses a thumb beneath Rook’s bottom lip until his mouth obediently falls open.

It’s hot. Hotter than it has any right to be, Rook’s eyes flickered up to watch the way Joseph’s pupils eat up the blue behind the yellow as he guides Rook’s mouth back onto his cock. Joseph seems just as affected--just like a good hallucination, it’d be a shit bliss trip if his partner wasn’t as into it as he was--mouth open and lips red like he’d been biting them. 

He can’t answer, can’t insist this is the Bliss--because it has to be, this never happens to him--because Joseph’s not giving him a chance. Working his head up and down with the same grips over his temples, a few strands of hair caught between his fingers for the right amount of pull. Rook lets it happen, tips his head back to open his throat, doesn’t even complain when Joseph’s throat fucking has drool spilling down his chin on the drawback.

He’s got his knees spread, pants biting into sensitive areas gently numbed by the Bliss and alcohol, hands working furiously at his cock. He wants more, wants to be naked enough he could shove a hand further down and finger himself open.

Dream Joseph doesn’t have a refractory period so maybe Bliss Joseph doesn’t either. So maybe, once he gets done fucking Rook’s throat, he’ll want to fuck something else. And it’s not like it’s real life, they won’t need lube or anything.

He might ask Joseph to spit on his hole though. That sounds stupid hot right about now. 

“Rook, I--”

He can’t say yes, can’t encourage it, but he tries. Hums around Joseph’s cock and leans into the next few thrusts, until Joseph is too deep and Rook’s choking on it. That works, at least, and Joseph’s fingers grip so tightly it hurts, pulling him in close to come down his throat. It’s mildly disappointing it’s too far back to taste, or to capture on his tongue to show off afterward, but it’s alright.

Because Joseph’s legs shake until they give out, until he’s pulling back and collapsing down, tipping their foreheads together.

“See?” Rook’s voice shakes, same as his muscles, body rushing towards the edge as it registers a sickly sweet taste in the back of his mouth. “S’the Bliss.”

Joseph doesn’t say anything, just pulls him into a kiss. Rook comes, shouting against Joseph’s mouth, come spilling over his fingers and onto the ground between them. It almost shakes him apart, vision black and green and shiny, leaving him blinking furiously in the aftermath. The hands on his head guide him back until Joseph can regard him and--huh.

“Dream Joseph never has his glasses on after,” Rook complains, one hand rising, come still glistening on his knuckles. “Take ‘em off. Wanna--I always get to see his eyes. You can be different, but you’re not allowed to be that different.”

Joseph catches his hand, smears the come, but doesn’t acknowledge it in the slightest as he pushes it back down. Rook’s vision is swimming now, like he got hit with a Bliss bullet instead of settling in a field of it, and there’s a familiar growing numbness that tells him he’s going to pass out.

“It would seem we are all different in the Bliss. Sleep, Rook. I will put you someplace safe.” He glances down, eyes rising with a pointed look of disappointed. “ _Without_ your alcohol.”

“I like Dream Joseph better.” Rook informs him snidely.

He thinks, vaguely, he hears Joseph whisper something like “I imagine I would too” but the world is swirling too fast. Rook feels himself go limp, falling forward into Joseph’s arms. It’s a bit disappointing this was all they managed to do. But Rook gets Blissed all the time, and since this was a hallucination, he should get another shot at it eventually.

Right?

**Author's Note:**

> Wanna know what's coming this month? Check out [this post](http://momomomma2.tumblr.com/post/178633371556/happy-kinktober) on my Tumblr!


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